The Deadly Dance: Chapter 1

Y. Bromberg

Kuzma heaved himself off of his chair and stretched out his hands. “There’s no stopping me when I feel the need to dance!”

Wednesday, August 22, 2018

U

kraine, 1700s

Snow fell over the sleepy village as candles flickered behind windows and people with little money to buy wood huddled tightly near their fireplaces. Inside one of the biggest homes in town, a wealthy man named Kuzma sat snugly on a giant throne.

“There is nothing I like better than snacking on a cold winter night,” Kuzma remarked to his servant, Agni, who was standing behind him. He was greedily consuming a hot bowl of red borscht and a lot of black, seeded bread. “Mmmm… This borscht really hits the spot, but I want something even better. Tonight is a special night, I can just feel it.”

“I’m surprised you can feel anything at all, considering how much you just ate,” Agni muttered to himself.

“Ah! I know what I want!” Kuzma tossed his empty bowl onto the floor. “Bring me some good old Ukrainian paskha! And add a side of kruchenyky with kasha and fresh mushroom sauce!”

“Yes, master,” Agni replied, slinking away. He reappeared a moment later with his master’s order. “Here you are, master.”

“Good timing,” Kuzma said, impressed. “It’s almost as if you knew what I would ask for!”

“Delicious, but you know what?” Kuzma asked, wiping his cheeks with a giant napkin.

“What, master?” Agni asked.

“I still don’t feel satisfied,” Kuzma complained.

“I’ll fetch some varenyky stuffed with meat and a scoop of sour crea—”

“No! Food is just not going to do it for me tonight!” Kuzma said. Suddenly his eyes lit up and a wide grin spread across his face. “Yes...YES! I know what I need! I need to dance the hopak!”

“But sir, you just ate!”

“Doesn’t matter.” Kuzma heaved himself off of his chair and stretched out his hands. “There’s no stopping me when I feel the need to dance! There’s nothing I love more in the entire world than music and dancing.”

“Shall I fetch the violin?”

“Yes, and hurry! Look, my feet are already beginning to move!” Kuzma shouted with glee, swaying across the floor as the house itself seemed to tilt back and forth.

A moment later Agni returned with his violin, set it to his chin, and began to move the bow across the strings. A lively tune burst forth, filling the room with music that sent Kuzma into frenzied dancing.

“Ho! Ha! YA!” Kuzma’s whirled and twirled gracefully, kicked his feet as high as his head, bounced on his toes and flapped his arms to and fro.

“Faster! Come on, do you think I can’t take it?” Kuzma yelled at Agni. “Faster, I said!”

Agni increased the pace, drawing his bow rapidly across the violin. He could not help but marvel at how light on his feet his master was as he danced across the house with unending glee.

“Aaaargh!” Kuzma suddenly let out a thunderous roar of pain as his foot slipped on the bowl he had thrown on the floor earlier. “Catch me, Agni!”

Howling like a child, Kuzma spun across the room.

“Ouch!” Agni held out his arms and tried to catch his master, but was flattened to the floor instead. “M-master, p-please... g-get off of m-me… I c-can’t b-breathe!” (Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 724)